


Streetwalking

by spacemonkey



Category: Metallica
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Prostitution, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is in the mood for something different</p>
            </blockquote>





	Streetwalking

One hand rests lazily on the wheel, the other scrawled with a destination; he heads there, humming along to the radio.  
  
It’s a short drive and he takes his time, considers going back home, watching TV, eating, sleeping, anything other then this, but soon enough James gets to where he’s going.  
  
Directs the wheel, pulls over to the sidewalk and plants his foot on the brake pedal; keeps the car running, knowing if he leaves alone or leave with someone, he’s gonna want to leave quick.  
  
James rolls down the passenger window, flicks his sunglasses off and eyes the guy leaning against the brick wall. Short, clad in leather pants that might as well be painted on and a shirt that’s begging  _fuck me_ , the guy looks at James with kohl rimmed eyes, snaps his gum and offers a shit eating grin.  
  
James can’t help it, he smiles back, then quickly clamps shut any emotion as the guy saunters over.  
  
“Interested?” he asks, leaning into the open window and James takes note of his thick hair, full lips and obnoxious twist of the mouth.  
  
“Get in, roll up the window,” James says.  
  
The guys grin grows wider as he pulls open the door. “Everyone is always interested.” He slams the door shut, squirms in the seat for a moment, then spits his gum out the window.  
  
“Why wouldn’t they be,” James mutters, pulling away from the curb. “You’re a real charmer.”  
  
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, you know.” He’s squirming again, like a fucking puppy, more like a kid as he shoots James another cheeky smile and pulls out a pack of smokes from god knows where. “Want one?”  
  
“Don’t smoke in my car.” James makes a left, shoots the guy a look and says, “That shit stinks up the upholstery for weeks, I don’t want that.”  
  
“Jesus, you’re a barrel of fucking fun, aren’t you?” He doesn’t light up though, just chucks the carton out the window and rolls it up. “Happy?”  
  
“Always.”  
  
“Got a name? Or should I just call you Master?”  
  
James likes the sounds of Master, even if he’s sure the guy is kidding. Probably would have to pay him a lot more to get Master included in the deal. He wasn’t sure how much he was willing to part with for this little cocksucker, and with that mouth, that’s all this guy was good for, so they would go with something else for now.  
  
“My name is,” James pauses, gives it some thought and lets the name roll off the tongue, “Jason.”  
  
“Jason, huh?” The guy nods knowingly. Clicks his tongue once or twice. “Yeah, that’s believable.”  
  
James lip twitches. Fucker. “And you are?”  
  
“Lemme think.” A pause. “Christ, this is hard. I can see why you went with Jason. I’ll be,” another click of the tongue, then a smirk, “I’m Robert Plant.”  
  
“Good name.” James nods. “Can I call you Robbie?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
James considers this. “Can I call you Plant Boy?”  
  
A small smile. “I hope you don’t.”  
  
“Can I call you slut?”  
  
“Babe, as long as you pay me, you can call me whatever the fuck you want. Except Plant Boy. Fuckin’ weird.”  
  
James decides on Robbie. It seems easy, rolls off the tongue like Jason.  
  
They drive quietly for a few minutes, Robbie mouthing along to Sabbath on the radio.  
  
“I like this song,” he says, turning in his seat to look at James. His green eyes disappear briefly behind long lashes, and James has to look away.  
  
“I thought you might.” James flicks the radio off, no more distractions needed, then nudges the windscreen wipers on; it’s sprinkling with rain and looking to storm. “So, where you from? You got an accent.”  
  
“Where do you think I’m from?” Robbie stretches as he says this, legs splayed out in the seat. He laughs when he catches James watching. “Denmark.”  
  
“Denmark?” James nods, almost impressed. “Robert Plant of Denmark, it totally fits.”  
  
“We going to your place, huh? Because I do count the driving as quality time. Small talk isn’t cheap, you know.”  
  
“We’re not going to my place.”  
  
“Married, then?”  
  
James grips the wheel tight. “We’re nearly there.” And they are, cheapest hotel this side of Hicksville, with enough stains on the covers to turn a few stomachs. Robbie looks less than impressed, his mouth turned in, and James only knows it will be worse once they're inside. "I'll pay you whatever you want," James offers. "Maybe even let you take the toaster home. You know, if there is one."  
  
Robbie's face twists into either a grimace or a tight smile, James finds it hard to tell the difference as he pulls into the parking lot, and he's still not sure which is which when Robbie says, "Nice car like this, I woulda thought you could afford something...minus cockroaches."  
  
"Ah, you've been here before then," James teases. It's a grimace then, he's sure of it. "I mean, if you know there's cockroaches and all." He finds a park easy - there's only two other cars - takes it, and turns off the engine. "I'll pay you whatever you want. With interest. And if there isn't a toaster, I'll buy you one."  
  
There's a definite smile this time round, even if it was a grimace before, and Robbie gives him a sly look. "You're supposed coolness is slipping away pretty quickly. No wonder you have to pay for sex."  
  
_Fucker_. James shoots back his own tight smile, leans across Robbie to open the glove compartment and snags the keyring with one finger. Room 4. He pulls back, brushing an arm against Robbie's thigh as he goes. "Maybe I'll even buy you a pair of pants that fit, Jesus Christ."  
  
James is out of the car and ten steps away before he looks back, sees Robbie still in the passenger seat with an odd little grin on his face, and he has to laugh to himself. He keeps walking, knowing eventually he'll be followed, and sure enough James hears the slam of a car door and footsteps behind him.  
  
James unlocks the door, holds it open and gives Robbie a look until he walks inside. Shuts the door behind them, tosses the keys on the chipped coffee table and watches it wobble. Fucking cheap hotel rooms. Everything is fucked up and crap and James feels dirty just standing next to the wall.   
  
Robbie is staring at the picture above the bed, the standard pretty flowers print that every hotel across the god damn universe must possess, and he’s grinning. “Might take that instead. Makes this worth my while. I don’t see a toaster.” He bounces on his toes, gives James a sideways glance, eyes wide.   
  
“Your taste in art sucks.”  
  
“I like weird things,” he shrugs.  
  
“That’s not weird, it’s shit.”  
  
Another shrug. “This place is a fucking dump. Smells like ass. And shit.”  
  
James watches him closely, sees his fingers drumming against his thigh. Still bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes everywhere. Robbie’s nervous. Hiding it in his voice, but he’s nervous alright.   
  
James smiles. Might be the kids’ first time. Paid work, anyways. James thinks that might be okay, likes the sound of it even. More chance of him being clean, being his, and James always hated sharing.  
  
Robbie lets out a long stream of air, fingers tapping on those impossibly tight pants. “So-”  
  
“Strip.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You heard me.” James settles down in a chair and it wobbles like the table. Apparently nothing in the room has even legs, and with that in mind, he’s scared to use the bed.  
  
Robbie’s eyes are wide again, but a different kind of wide than before, and after a few seconds, they’re sly and he’s ripping his shirt off. Shoes go next, then his socks and James almost asks him to slow down, but decides not to bother. This is enough, James thinks as he grazes his crotch with his palm. Robbie catches this, grins and makes eye contact as the tension melts away.  
  
“What’re you grinnin’ at?” James asks, meaning to say  _I didn’t tell you to stop_ , but the words don’t come and Robbie just shakes his head and starts to slide his pants down. James is amazed that he can even get them past his ass, as tight as they are, and the realization that Robbie is sans underwear makes him idly palm himself once more.  
  
Pants hit the floor and Robbie kicks them away then stands there, looking almost impatient as he waits for the next step. Fucking waits. James knows he likes that, is sure he’s in control and he has to clench his fist and stand up.  
  
Robbie swallows as James eyes him. “Like what you see?”  
  
James does. Guy isn’t perfect, but then who is, and he begins to slowly circle as Robbie stands still. “No talking,” he growls, deciding he likes and wants to be in control. Robbie rolls his eyes but keeps quiet and James has to smile.  
  
He almost seems delicate, but James can sense the muscles hidden underneath, a little machine with strong thighs and stronger arms, and he’s impressed. Never mind that the guys ass is pasty white and one cheek is only a bit bigger than James’ hand. It’s a turn on, and James gives his ass a little tap. He likes the noise Robbie makes, a surprised gasp and James can see him fighting back a nasty comment.  
  
James steps around to Robbie’s side, and he sees it. A small mark, right there above his hipbone. Another on his chest, and one more at his throat. Nipple piercing too, and that could be interesting, but James can’t even think about that. “Someone was here first,” he says. Robbie smiles, cheeky, eyes asking  _does that bother you?_  
  
It does. He’s dirty, used and the little cocksucker that James first though he was.  _Fucker_.  
  
“I don’t like that,” he mutters, then grasps Robbie’s arms with his fingers digging in deep, hopefully deep enough to mark and bruise and make him belong to James. Shoves him down onto the bed, face first and Robbie goes willingly, then James sits down himself, middle of the bed and pulls Robbie onto his lap. “Ass up. C’mon now.”  
  
There’s a pause after that, from both of them. James isn’t sure if he should do this, but then he rests his hand on the curve of Robbie’s ass and sees the reaction that gets. Robbie flinches away from the touch, wearing the  _oh shit_  expression that makes it seem like an even better idea, and when Robbie does as he’s told, cautious as anything and biting his lip, James knows he needs to be punished.   
  
He waits though. Runs a finger across the white skin, feeling the flesh rise and prickle underneath his touch, and Robbie tries to hide the shiver, but James can feel it. He adds another finger, two now, and lets one continue along while the other finger disappears in between cheeks. James drags his finger slow, excruciatingly slow through his crack, teasing, and feels Robbie tense. He hears him let out a tiny breath, and that’s when James pulls his hand away.   
  
“I expect,” James brings his hand down swift, hard and Robbie cries out, “a certain amount,” and another hand, “of cleanliness.” And another. Then one more, and James waits, watches the skin redden and feels the heat rising, feels Robbie panting.  _Feels_  him. “Ass up,” James demands.  
  
“But-”  
  
_**Crack**_.   
  
It’s harder then the others and a sob escapes from Robbie’s throat. He doesn’t lift himself up and James knows he has to learn, so three more handprints appear, as hard as before, and it leaves Robbie gasping and moaning and rubbing against James’ thigh. Fucking getting off on this. “You little whore,” James says, amazed, knowing he could easily finish Robbie off with a few more well timed smacks, maybe a rough finger up the ass, and the little shit would love it. And yeah, James had to admit, he’d fucking love it too, but he’d still end up with a hard on and a wet stain on the thigh of his jeans. That was not what James was paying for, so he shoves Robbie, hard enough for him to go sprawling off the bed.  
  
Robbie seems to be expecting this. He lands almost neat on the dirty carpet, looks up at James and laughs. He has the beginnings of black streaks running down his face, kohl mixing with tears and finding some sweat along the way, and his cheeks are flushed to hell.   
  
“I told you,” James says after a full minute of them staring at one another, “no talking.”  
  
“I won’t be told anymore.” It comes out a tease, with Robbie’s mouth twisted into that fucking obnoxious grin and James climbs off the bed and stands over him. He wants to smack that look off of the little cocksucker’s face, wants to make him bite a hole through his lip in an attempt to stay silent when James is fucking him into the floor, but James knows that’s what Robbie wants. Acting out like a fucking kid to get what he wants, an extra palm print on his ass and it’s just not going to happen.  
  
Robbie pulls himself into a sitting position, winces as he touches his ass to the floor and then he looks up at James and his smile drops. It ain’t gonna happen, and Robbie seems to realize this from one fucking look. He nods, looks down at the floor and James is in control again.  
  
“Get on your knees.”  
  
Robbie hesitates, only for a moment but its there, then he’s dropping to his knees. They thud against the dirty carpet, and it’s got to hurt, but Robbie doesn’t even wince. Just looks up at James, and James looks back, small smirk on his face as he does so; maybe he should have been clearer, but then Robbie has a hand on James’ belt buckle. He undoes it, quick and careful, then yanks and pulls and tosses it halfway across the room. They both watch it hit the wall, not that it’s much of a distance, the room is as small as it is dirty, and then Robbie has his hands back and James looks away from the belt and back to the matter at hand.   
  
Robbie pops the button, unzips and has the jeans pulled down mid thigh before James finally says, “I meant on the bed. Hands and knees.”  
  
Robbie ducks his head, shakes it and laughs to himself, embarrassed. “No laughing. No noise. No, fuckin’ not even a whimper. You’re just gonna listen to me.” James dares to reach out and touch Robbie, pauses halfway because it’s such a fucking intimate thing, but then so is fucking, and he knows they’re not far away from that. So he keeps his hand going, lets it rest on top of Robbie’s head, then the side of his head before burying fingers into thick hair and murmuring, “While I fuck you.”  
  
James sees Robbie freeze at this, watches the small smile spread across his face, and feels his fingers tighten, still settled on James’ thighs. They drag up, slow, painfully slow and James swallows. “On the bed. Now.”   
  
Robbie just smiles,  _fucking asshole_ , one finger hooking over the band of black underwear, then another. Then Robbie is dragging down, slow, painfully slow and James tightens his grip in Robbie’s hair, lets his head roll back and feels the tip of Robbie’s tongue reach his cock. He snaps his head forward, pulls Robbie back, rough and only by his hair. He ignores the cry that comes with that, this time, and lets go. “Bed. I won’t tell you again.”  
  
He’s serious this time, he was serious before, and Robbie sees this; he keeps eye contact the entire time though, as he’s crawling back onto the bed, that god damn smile still on his face, taunting, and James is pissed and so fucking horny he’s sure it’s gonna be quick. Another reason for Robbie to grin, he knows, and James is sure as much as he walks the walk and Robbie goes along with it, he’s not really ever going to be in control.  
  
Robbie is lying back on the bed, propped up by his elbows with his legs splayed open for all to see, and James’ own cock is hanging out his jeans, interested as all hell at the sight but James’ mind, his actual mind that isn’t ruled by his dick, and it’s a small part, is stuck on other features. The black streaks running down and leading up to carefully applied make up that is begging to be ruined even more. A rub of a thumb, soft or hard, it doesn’t matter, running down the streaks and tracing Robbie’s lower lip, disappearing into his hot mouth and coming out slicked with spit while his other hand plays with a nipple ring, tweaks and pulls and makes him buck and whine.  
  
James doesn’t even care that the small part of his brain has been taken over by his dick, he was probably lying to himself about the whole thing; it’s impossible to be completely focussed when he can smell Robbie. Fucking  _smell_  him, his arousal mixing with James’ own, and when Robbie lifts his leg just so, James can catch a small glimpse of reddened skin, and he has to move forward.   
  
Kneels on the bed, shuffles closer, slow and Robbie shifts his leg further still, hand running up and down his torso, and James places his own hand on top. Wraps his fingers around it, grips and pulls it away. “Don’t.” He’s so close to saying  _mine_  and is glad he doesn’t when Robbie’s smile turns feral and he’s reminded: dirty, off the street trash, cocksucker, whore,  _dirty_. Not something James should have or even want, but he needs it, he knows he does. Fucker probably is less diseased than any other whore he could find, at the very least he looks clean and he’s still fucking smiling, and James reaches over to the bedside table.   
  
He’d left a small bag there, before when he’d checked into the hellhole and then gone hunting, and he unzips and pulls out what he needs, then turns back to Robbie. “Sit up,” he instructs. Robbie eyes the wrapper, cocks an eyebrow that says  _don’t you trust me?_  as much as words could, and sits up. Another eyebrow,  _you want me to?_  and he takes the wrapper without even waiting for a response, tears it open with his teeth, and James cant help but think how cliché that has become. “Fuck knows where you’ve been,” he can’t help but sneer, and Robbie pauses if only for a second, then rolls the condom on, quick and snatches the lube from James’ hand.   
  
“Disgusting,” James adds, he has to, and Robbie doesn’t pause this time, just squirts the liquid onto his palm, gives James a look, a glare, and grabs a bit harder than necessary. “Dirty. Fuckin’ cocksucker,” he mutters, but his heart isn’t into it as he stares and Robbie stares back, green eyes furious and laughing. He keeps the eye contact as he slicks James’ cock just enough, then continues to stroke, his other hand landing on a jean covered thigh and massaging, and James has to push him away when he’s so close.  
  
Robbie’s eyes are just laughing now, not even angry as he lays back, and James has to ignore him for a minute, eyes closed as he breathes slow, in and out, hearing Robbie shuffle on the bed, fucking smelling his scent, feeling his gaze burning and fuck it. James opens his eyes, sees Robbie sprawled out like he hadn’t even moved, but he’s looking anxious now, close to needy and want and James wonders if he could just forgo the money and the little cocksucker would still leave the hotel room a happy man. It would be the sort of happy that lasted until the next time you wanted to feed yourself and found your pockets empty, and even if James couldn’t care less whether Robbie never eats again, he’s sure Robbie does, as hungry as he was looking, legs splayed and hands laying on the bed cover, fighting not to touch. Balling into fists, his nails leaving little indents in his palm as opens his hands again, fingers tapping and still fucking wanting this.  
  
James breathes heavy through his nose, his cock jutting from his jeans, slick, protected and painfully hard. “You want it now?” He moves forward, hand reaching out and brushing against Robbie’s thigh. Ghosting it, up and down, the hairs prickling under his almost touch. “Huh? Want me to fuck you? Get on your hands and knees.”  
  
He’s almost going to miss the eye contact, the burn, and Robbie is probably thinking the same, but James doesn’t really care about that when Robbie rolls over, red ass sticking out as he pulls himself up onto his knees, palms kneading into the cover, his fucking red ass, and James has to touch. It’s not warm anymore, the red has faded slightly, but it still stings, he’s sure of it, and that’s enough for James. He digs his fingers in, waits for the cry that never comes, and smiles. Moves his hand from Robbie’s ass, trailing back down his thigh and to his calf, not ghosting this time, actual touching and then he pulls his hand away and sits up.   
  
James leans over Robbie, feeling so fucking giant as he plants one hand on the bed and the other one grabbing at skin, anywhere he can touch, flicking at the nipple ring, running fingers through the coarse hair below his bellybutton, just above his cock, and Robbie lets out that cry James has been waiting, hoping for, jerks back and James has to pull away. Doesn’t want Robbie rubbing up against him, fucking getting off that way, and he ignores the noise as he drags his hand away. Grips Robbie’s jaw instead, hopefully hard enough to mark him, and James leans forward again. “I wanna hurt you,” he whispers, waiting for Robbie’s mouth to fall open and when it does, he knew it would, he traces his lower lip like he wanted to, but with his finger. “Suck.”   
  
Its pathetic how quickly Robbie does just that, eager and wet with his eyes closed, and James adds a second finger just for the hell of it, loving the warmth, feel of it all. Robbie closes his teeth down then, just when James is about to close his eyes and moan, and instead he pulls his hand out, rough and scraping and lets out a growl he didn’t even know was building up. He doesn’t say anything though, knows calling him a slut or a dirty little cocksucker won’t get him far, its things they both already know, so James just sits back and buries a finger into Robbie’s ass. No warning, no preamble, not even the chance for Robbie to get used to him easing it in, and there’s another cry that James just can’t ignore.   
  
He pulls his finger out, a quick relief, then just as fast, buries two right back in. Deep, to the point and Robbie bucks, looking like it’s painful, and it just makes James go deeper. Fucking tight, like a woman, better than a woman, tightening around his fingers as Robbie tries to adjust. James doesn’t know why he bothers, fingers ain’t nothing compared to the main show, or so he’s heard, but he couldn’t really care less about Robbie’s comfort, just the heat and the movement of it all, but still he opens his fingers just  _so_  and gauges Robbie’s reaction.  
  
Pain still there, some sort of pleasure, a bit more when James goes in deeper and then it’s there, written across his face plain as day when pleasure overtakes pain and James chooses then to pull his fingers out. Can’t have the pain disappear completely, he can’t have that at all, so no matter whether or not Robbie is ready, he keeps his hands away and moves them to Robbie’s hips. Pushes and shoves him until he’s in the position that James wants and it looks uncomfortable but perfect, and James grips and positions his cock.   
  
It takes a few thrusts, shallow at first, with Robbie groaning and whimpering and thrusting back, but then James is buried deep and grunting, fucking tighter and hotter than his fingers, surrounding him and he thinks  _fuck, shit_ , because there is no way in hell he’s gonna last long.  
  
He pauses then, letting himself adjust and maybe letting Robbie do the same, leaning over till his chest touches Robbie’s back, needing a bit more sweat to stick, and his nose an inch from Robbie’s hair. He breathes in deep, breathes out and sees the hair flutter, the skin on Robbie’s neck prickle and bump. James takes a hand and wraps it around Robbie’s chest, pulls him closer and ducks his mouth to Robbie’s ear. He goes to say something, not sure what until he says it, and then loses all train of thought and ends up just breathing in his ear, hot and moist.  
  
It’s enough to piss Robbie off; he lets out an aggravated groan, bucks back as if to say  _lets get this fucker started already_ , and tightens his ass around James’ cock. It’s enough of a come on for James, and he pulls back, away from Robbie’s ear, away from his hair, keeps his arm around Robbie’s chest, pulls out slow, and rocks back in just as slow. Robbie makes a noise, the rules apparently out the window, and James really couldn’t care less, and it sounds like frustration, so he repeats himself, still as slow, and Robbie squirms. James holds himself for a second, his legs trembling and slams back in hard enough to make Robbie yelp. He keeps the rhythm steady after that, fast, hard, he wants this fucking  _done_ , needs it to be over, and the noises Robbie makes when he speeds up is more than enough to send him over the edge, but James manages to hold back. Wants it fucking done, but not yet, Robbie lets out a whimper or two and James is next to silent, breathing heavy but holding back. He watches Robbie’s face, watches his cock disappear into Robbie’s ass, fucking buried in him and James loses his rhythm, gasps, and takes his other hand from it’s place on Robbie’s hip, wraps it around his chest, and  _pulls_.   
  
Robbie goes willingly, body loose and James falls back onto the balls of his feet, knees pressing harder into the bed as he kneels and Robbie goes with the flow, hands falling to his own thighs as James shifts and finds a position comfortable for the both of them. He pushes Robbie’s hands from his thighs and rests his own hand there while the other grips at his torso and Robbie seems alright with this. He grabs at James’ arm and reaches up to hold his shoulder, and takes control; slams himself down onto James’ cock.  
  
“Fuck, shit,” Robbie gasps, head lolling back and James takes note of this, the fucking  _echo_  of his earlier thoughts and grips harder till it’s painful. Robbie groans at the applied pressure, letting his head slam back against James’ shoulder as James finds his rhythm again, grunting and groaning with Robbie’s breath hitting his cheek. “Are-” Robbie cuts himself off, whines, fucking  _whines_  and it’s something James wants to hear. A hand bumps his and he feels Robbie move to grab his own cock, hears the whine again and he grits his teeth and wraps his fingers around Robbie’s hand, Robbie’s cock.   
  
“Are-” Robbie tries again. James squeezes his hand, both of their hands and Robbie shuts up, fuck knows what he’s trying to say. James doesn’t care, he wants some more whining and he gets it along with a gasp, keeping the pace of his hand and his thrusts in time.  _Fuck, mother_ fuck, he thinks he might mutter, snapping his hips, deep. Robbie lets out a choked cry, head falling back again and staying there, and he comes in short bursts, whining and gasping as their hands move together and then he’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling, ass tight, flinching around James, choking him. It’s enough, too much for James and he jerks, snaps his hips a final time and growls, comes deep in Robbie’s ass, teeth bared and mouth banging against Robbie’s neck then he groans, exhales and stills.  
  
James holds himself up, only just as his feet and thighs protest like hell, mother _fuck_ , feeling Robbie’s every move around him, fucking twitching and shallow breaths that shake his chest, and then Robbie is pulling away, and James slides easily out of his ass, blinking and frowning as Robbie crawls towards the end of the bed.   
  
He has to laugh at the escape, bemused by the suddenness, but Robbie ignores his chuckle and sits on the edge of the bed. James raises an eyebrow, his own shallow breaths deeper now, and he pulls off the condom carefully, ties it and heads to the bathroom. Drops, flushes and finds Robbie standing when he returns.   
  
James climbs onto the bed, stretches back, arms behind his head, legs crossed and feet bumping against one another. He watches, lazy, as Robbie gets dressed. Quick, methodical with his back to James and his ass still an angry red. James laughs, pulls one hand forward to rub his mouth, and laughs again for the hell of it, because that? Now that was fun.  
  
Robbie pauses; back still turned, and then pulls his socks on and steps into his shoes. He turns around then, not looking at James, then props one foot up on the bed and laces up. Does the same with the other foot, then finally flicks his eyes up to meet James, and Robbie is wearing one of those unreadable expressions. Amused or pissed or downright agitated, perhaps something completely different, maybe even close to challenging the situation and James doesn’t really care which one it is. He just stretches out further, smug grin on his face as he stares back.  _Bring it on._    
  
Robbie raises an eyebrow, kneels on the covers and starts to climb his way over. He straddles James’ lap, their faces only inches apart, with one hand planted onto the pillow, supporting himself. “Jason,” he grins as his other hand trails down James’ chest, pinching here and there until he gets to the top of his jeans, still undone. James smirks, bites his lip and frowns as Robbie’s hand goes left to where he expected and into the pocket. Then he understands, and doesn’t stop Robbie from pulling out his wallet and flipping it open.   
  
“Jason,” Robbie says again, derisive this time and then he turns his attention from the driver’s license to the more important contents. “I was expecting a wad of ones. Classy fucker like you.” Robbie waves the handful of bills in front of James’ face, laughs and sits back. He shoves the cash deep into his sock then rolls it up high and leans down again. “Took a little extra. For the toaster.”  
  
“And some pockets,” James says, and it’s hard to speak with Robbie’s lips almost brushing his own.  _Fucker_.   
  
Robbie smiles, presses a kiss against James’ mouth, and it’s sweet and soft and so fucking surprising that James pulls back. “It’s been real,” Robbie murmurs, then rolls off of James, off of the bed and he’s out the door so fast that James is left wondering if it really happened.   
  
He lays there, hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. Then he has to laugh. “It’s been real? The fuck, man.”  
  
It takes ten minutes and James waits, occasionally shaking his head and laughing to himself, before the door opens again. He doesn’t look, just continues to stare at the ceiling until an arm snakes around his waist. Lars presses a kiss to his temple, then rests his head on James’ shoulder and sighs.   
  
“You owe me a toaster.”  
  
“Fucking buy it yourself, I got no money.” James looks down at Lars, cheeks still streaked with black and eyes both amused and sated and he has to add, “Some cunt just ripped me off.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written way back in 2008, for a special someone. It had the title Operation Plant Boy for months, and it was fun, so fun to write


End file.
